Angie writes "this is the Man in the Box. Yes, he lives in a metal box. He hardly ever moves from the box, although I've found him down the street by the bus stand, crouching on his haunches with a pile of vomit in front of him. He was wearing a piece of plastic as a poncho though it wasn't raining. Sometimes he smokes bidis in his metal box, and I've heard that if women get too close, he will grab their asses.
But what's sad about his story is that it is not him alone. He is not merely homeless and mentally ill. He is "taken care of" by relatives who run a restaurant across the street from where he lives. They give him food and, as pictured, coffee.
The fact that he is not better taken care of drives me crazy. I will never go to that restaurant; I will never support the business of people who will not take better care of their relative. (And I realize that the society in India, particularly Himachal Pradesh, does not have "nursing homes" the way we do in America, but I do believe there has to be something more than can be done for this man.)
The last time I saw the Man in the Box, he was humming to himself. Humming, like any other man, to pass the time."
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